The Yaochi Club boasted three towers: Heaven, Earth, and Human. The Heaven Tower was the pinnacle, not just for its lavish decor but as a status symbol. For Beijing's elite scions, money was no object—face was everything. Yaochi's exclusivity made the top dogs feel like kings.
Lei Zhengyang was one such figure. He might be nothing special, but no one dared disrespect the Lei family's name.
Room Six of the Heaven Tower wasn't his usual haunt—his reserved suite was Room Eight, where Luo Luo stayed.
Luo Luo, the "little loli" Leng Youran mentioned, had just turned sixteen last year. She'd joined Yaochi to earn money for her mother's medical bills. For reasons unclear—perhaps the Lei name or some redeeming trait Leng saw in him—Leng Youran had paired her with Zhengyang. He wasn't poor, so keeping a girl was no issue. Nor was he a saint, intending no charity. After a deal, Shi Luo Luo became his exclusive property.
She might look young, but her delicate beauty and well-proportioned figure promised a stunning woman in a couple of years. It was a fair trade.
Now, trouble had come—trouble even Leng Youran couldn't handle. Few in Beijing dared cross her. Zhengyang still didn't know her full story, only rumors that she was tied to a mysterious tycoon, untouchable in both legal and underworld circles. Many had tried to claim her; none succeeded.
Seeing Zhengyang, Leng Youran looked relieved, even offering herself as bait. Whoever caused this mess clearly had serious clout.
Even if not for Leng, Zhengyang wouldn't ignore it. They'd dragged Luo Luo into a private room to "pour drinks," but the intent was obvious. Back in the city, Zhengyang might play the playboy, but he felt a protective spark for Luo Luo. She was his—no one touched what was his. This possessiveness, fiercer than his old wastrel days, tolerated no defiance.
A killing intent flashed in his eyes as he shot Leng Youran a cold glare. "You said you'd look after her. Leng Youran, you've disappointed me."
Without waiting for her reply, he bypassed the elevator, charging up the stairs, vanishing from her sight. Leng froze, stunned. For a moment, she'd felt a chilling murderous aura. This man has killing intent?
Luo Luo's real name was Shi. "Luo Luo" was Zhengyang's nickname, adopted by Leng. Leng Youran wasn't known for kindness—running Yaochi amid Beijing's elite required steel—but she had a soft spot for Luo Luo, an unspoken bond.
It was a secret: Leng had once had a beloved younger sister, killed in a family feud. When Shi Luo Luo appeared, she was like her sister reborn. From that moment, Leng quietly watched over her.
Without Leng's protection this past year, Luo Luo would've been passed around countless times—such was the fate of Yaochi's "princesses." A petite, pure beauty like her, defenseless in a place like this, was easy prey.
Zhengyang stormed into Room Six of the Heaven Tower. Two burly guards at the door moved to block him but were down in seconds. One crashed into the door, smashing it open with a thunderous bang.
The scene inside ignited Zhengyang's fury. Luo Luo's dress was torn, exposing flashes of skin. She clutched her chest, pinned against a table in the corner, tears streaming down her face. Before her, three men grinned, wine glasses in hand—two young, one middle-aged.
Zhengyang recognized one: Lin Zhouwei, a rival whose status matched his own. The Lin patriarch and Lei Yunbao were political adversaries, making Zhengyang and Zhouwei sworn enemies. Whenever they crossed paths, sparks flew.
Lin Zhouwei's face flickered with surprise, likely not expecting Zhengyang to show up so fast.
Luo Luo spotted him and leapt from the table, throwing herself into his arms, sobbing, "Brother Lei, they tried to hurt me!"
Though she'd only been with him three months, she knew Zhengyang, flawed as he was, was a hundred times better than these men. He'd promised not to touch her until she was eighteen—and kept his word. Thinking she'd be trapped, seeing him now felt like reuniting with family.
"So, Third Young Master Lei," said the other young man, emboldened by Lin Zhouwei's presence. "This girl's yours? Sorry, our Young Master Lin's taken a liking. Name your price."
Zhengyang ignored him, checking Luo Luo for injuries. Seeing her unharmed, he patted her back, draping his suit jacket over her. "Don't worry, I've got this."
Luo Luo knew her fate was sealed—for her mother's sake, she had no regrets. No matter how grim the path, if it was with Zhengyang, she'd accept it. Their deal was clear: he funded her mother's care, and she gave him everything—body, life, dignity. But other men? Unacceptable.
Snubbed, the young man bristled. "Third Young Master's got some nerve, acting high and mighty before Young Master Lin. Lin plays you like a toddler."
Footsteps echoed as a dozen guards swarmed the door, eyeing Lin Zhouwei for orders. These weren't ordinary thugs—former elite soldiers, now Lin family hires, far above typical muscle.
Lin Zhouwei didn't glance at Zhengyang, his indifference a calculated slight. The middle-aged man, sipping wine, watched calmly, confident in the Lin family's untouchable status.
"Who're you?" Zhengyang asked, steadying Luo Luo as she clung to his sleeve, visibly terrified.
The young man smirked. "Can't compare to Third Young Master. Just the son of a minor secretary from Southwest Province. Probably beneath your notice."
Zhengyang knew the Southwest Provincial Party Secretary. So this was his son—a provincial prince, no small fry. The mock humility was pure taunt.
Slap! A sharp backhand cracked across the man's face. "If you know you're small-time, don't bark like a dog," Zhengyang said coldly.
The blow was sudden. The man staggered, nearly collapsing, but Zhengyang grabbed his head, slamming it into the glass table with a sickening thud. Blood poured from his face as he passed out, a gruesome sight.
Lin Zhouwei's expression darkened. The middle-aged man's calm faltered, shocked. To act so brazenly in front of Young Master Lin, with no regard for face, was unthinkable.
"Lei Zhengyang, you're real tough, huh? Daring to hit my guy—" Lin Zhouwei started.
Zhengyang didn't look at him. Another slap rang out, loud and heavy, swelling Lin's face instantly. "Hit him? So what? You gonna bite me?"
Lin Zhouwei stumbled back three steps, clutching his face, his cool facade shattered. "Beat him!" he roared. "Break his legs—I want him crawling for life!"
"Brother Lei!" Luo Luo cried, a sixteen-year-old girl unused to such violence. Though wary of Zhengyang before, she now saw he was fighting for her.
At Yaochi, women were traded like clothes among the elite, swapped without care. From Leng Youran, she'd learned these men's statuses were worlds beyond her reach. She'd traded her future for money, expecting misery. Zhengyang's defense was a shock, both thrilling and unexpected.
His face darkened, eyes flashing. Grabbing a wine bottle, he smashed it over the first guard's head. Glass shattered, wine splashed, and a kick sent the man crashing into two others, all collapsing unconscious.
The broken bottle stabbed into the second guard's gut, forcing him back, out of the fight. The third had his arm twisted, the fourth's leg snapped, and the fifth took a baton—snatched from him—to the skull. Three brutal strikes left blood gushing from his head like a burst balloon. He stood frozen, then fell, a blood-soaked wreck, likely bedridden for life.
Lin Zhouwei, clutching his face, paled with shock and fear at Zhengyang's savagery.
The remaining three guards froze at the door, dialing for backup, too wary to advance.
Zhengyang, baton in hand, advanced on Lin Zhouwei, who backed away, blustering, "Lei Zhengyang, what're you doing? Touch me, and the Lins won't let you off!"
Slap! Slap! Two more blows landed. "You filthy bastard, touching my woman?" Zhengyang snarled. "I'll teach you a lesson." Two baton strikes followed, and with a piercing scream, Lin Zhouwei's legs buckled—broken, as promised.
Kicking him under the table, Zhengyang turned to the middle-aged man.
The man, sweating profusely, stammered, "Third Young Master Lei, I'm Gao Shengli, chairman of South Gaoren Group. My apologies for the offense—it's all a misunderstanding, I swear!"
Gao had ridden Lin Zhouwei's coattails, dominating business with impunity. He'd expected a show, not this ferocious turnaround. Zhengyang's brutality—felling guards and crushing Lin—forced a quick retreat. A wise man didn't court death.
Zhengyang smirked wickedly. "Chairman Gao, you must be loaded, huh?"
Gao flushed, feigning modesty. "Hardly, just small-time compared to Third Young Master's flair. For the misunderstanding, I offer 20 million as compensation. Please accept."
A true businessman, quick to adapt, his face changed faster than the wind.
"Two billion," Zhengyang said. "Deliver it here tomorrow. One cent short, and I'll break both your legs. Now get out."
A corporate titan, likely cozying up to the Lins—Zhengyang had no interest in beating him. Too easy. Plus, he needed cash. Why not take it? This trip was about settling Luo Luo's affairs for good, and two billion should cover it.